


The Other Side

by grandmatabs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Beelzebub is NB but Gabriel is an idiot, Good Omens AU, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Multi, Other, POV Gabriel (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Slow Burn, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), character development will happen, lots of growing to happen, some homophobia, yes Gabriel is a shitty person and christian in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-12-09 14:04:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandmatabs/pseuds/grandmatabs
Summary: It's my fic Umbrella, but from Gabriel and Beelzebub's POV. Can probably be read on it's own, but it's really best to read the two fics together. Heavenbound is forced to share a venue with the Hellhound Quartet and Gabriel is angry. Not half as angry as he is when he realizes his base player has disappeared with their sound man, and he's forced to go find his brother with Beelzebub tagging along.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Gabriel was _shaking_. He had made it through the night, the set, the _humiliation_. Only now that it was all over had he allowed the anger to really catch up with him. Most of the band had seen it coming and, in interest of their own well-being, fled. Even the usual after-show bible study was forfeit in the face of Gabriel’s wrath. It didn’t help his mood that the other side (the Hellhound Quartet) was still packing up from their travesty of a show, despite being finished with it hours ago. 

He was going to be yelling at every manager he could get on the phone about this, this...disaster of a night. What kind of venue could manage to double book (much less with two bands so drastically different)? They’d been forced to share their stage, share their time, all of it with some ‘jazz band’ that played terrible music and apparently knew nothing of organization. They pushed around the members of Heavenbound and made crass remarks in excess. Their leader in particular was a difficult, a little angry thing that seemed to take joy in sneering at Gabriel until he looked away (he had given up trying to be the one to make her look away after the first attempt). 

Even now, with all of Heavenbound’s members run off and Gabriel glowering at the stage hands to pack up faster, the Hellhound Quartet was still dawdling about, halfheartedly picking up here and there and spending more time harassing his stage hands than doing any work themselves. Gabriel had gone so far as to start moving equipment himself, trying to speed the process up and never see any of the Hellhound Quartet again. The leader of their group (she bore the sacrilegious name of Beelzebub and he did his best to avoid even thinking of it - it had to be a nickname) caught his eye again and bared her teeth in what might have been a smile and might have been a threat. 

He turned to shout at a stage hand to give reason for breaking the eye contact (reason that wasn’t him being too uncomfortable to hold it). It took about an hour to get everything packed up to a passable standard, around the same time that the Hellhound Quartet was finally shoving their last speaker into the back of a trailer, everything in it balanced so precariously it looked as though one good pothole would be the end of every piece of their equipment. He summoned up his best disdainful look before daring to glance in the direction of their band leader and this time she wasn’t looking at him at all, putting all his effort to waste. 

With another, less practiced scowl, Gabriel turned away. He scanned the backstage area for Aziraphale and wasn’t surprised when he came up missing. Even when the other band members didn’t scatter, his brother had a habit of slipping away unnoticed and finding his own way home (nevermind what he was doing on that walk that Gabriel pretended not to know about). It was annoying and stressful and he had given up on trying to break Aziraphale of the habit a few years earlier. So then, missing Aziraphale, missing band, Gabriel was left to watch the rest of the Hellhound Quartet clear out before heading home and attempting to smother his building migraine with sleep. 

He could leave, of course. But he wanted to be sure that the other band left first, not about to get charged or blamed for any damages they might incur while he wasn’t looking. No, he would be the last to leave and he would make it clear that any mess left behind did not belong to Heavenbound. He was receiving suspicious glances in his direction, now that he was merely standing with his arms crossed, watching the mismatched group of degenerates argue about who was driving, and something about missing a crow. Then, there was something else. 

“_That hippie guy-_” one of them said, and Gabriel tuned into the conversation. ‘That hippie guy’ wasn’t an often used description, unless you spent a good amount of time around Aziraphale, which Gabriel did. 

“The one that’s a part of-” it was the leader speaking, beginning to flick her head towards Gabriel, only to see that he was watching them and break off to glare. She turned and muttered something to the pale-haired violinist before morphing her entire small body into the physical manifestation of a scowl and marching up to Gabriel. 

“You,” she said, shoving a finger into his chest. Gabriel stepped back and brushed off the spot she’d touched. 

“Me,” he repeated, using all he had left of mental effort to sound calm and unimpressed. She bared her teeth again, only this time there was no pretense of a smile in the action. 

“Hastur said one of yours was out front with our sound person. That’s the last that’s been seen of him, and we need to collect him.” 

In any other situation, Gabriel would have dismissed it as not his problem. Unfortunately, Aziraphale was his problem, and it meant that he needed to collect his base player (and brother) as well. Walking home was one thing. Spending time in the company of any of these immorals was altogether unacceptable. It would make the band look bad. It was bad enough that they’d been forced to share a venue, he couldn’t have people thinking that they were actually tied to Hellhound Quartet in some way. It was irresponsible of Aziraphale, but that was to be expected, wasn’t it? 

So instead of telling the feral thing in front of him that it was her problem and not his, Gabriel sighed heavily and extracted his phone from his pocket. He’d gotten tired of not knowing where Aziraphale got off to eventually and downloaded an application that would allow him to track his brother’s location. This was adding one more stop to his night before it could all be over with, and he was going to make sure that Aziraphale felt as miserable as he did before the night was over. 

“I will find my brother and pass along the message to your sound person to run back home.” It wasn’t explicitly meant to sound full of derision, but if that’s how it came out, all the better. The other leader did not settle for that and leave him be, she crowded further into his personal space and jabbed him in the chest again. 

“You think I’m going to leave it all to you, let you play the knight in shining armor?” The heels of her feet had left the ground at some point to bring her higher, but she was still at least a foot shorter and the effect of it was only to make her look like an arching and spitting kitten. “If you know where they are, give me the location and I’ll go to get Crowley and tell yours to bugger off.” 

Gabriel could see the appeal to the offer, but he could also imagine the end result (he also hadn’t missed her referring to him as a knight in shining armor, choosing not to mention it because he didn’t think she had meant it in a flatter manner). 

“I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if I took care of it myself,” he was making an attempt at diplomacy and it sounded good to his own ears, as he took another careful step away. He was only a few steps away from the wall at this point and he’d be damned if he was going to let her walk him into it. She was already pressing after him, looking ready to resort to physical violence, when a taller, greasy woman stepped in. 

“The both of you can go and collect your pets together. Problem solved.” Her voice was flat and disinterested, her expression annoyed and her hand wrapped around her leader’s arm to keep her from launching herself at Gabriel as it seemed she might. Gabriel couldn’t say he had any desire to go anywhere with the small demon-woman, but he was even less inclined to give out Aziraphale’s location to someone else, even if he was certain he would get there first (there was the option to not help at all, but that wasn’t exactly the Godliest thing to do, and he was meant to set an example). 

“If you want to ride with me, I can put a towel down on my passenger seat.” Gabriel offered. Maybe that wasn’t the perfect example of Christian grace, but the dig had leapt to his tongue before he thought about what he was saying and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. 

“I would rather spend the evening prying off my own toenails than get anywhere near your car, you-” 

Her band member’s grip on her arm tightened, holding her in place. “Beelzebub,” the woman said, “remember what happened last time Crowley disappeared and missed shows?” She was, apparently, the voice of reason in this group. As for ‘Beelzebub’ (Gabriel’s dislike for the name had not faded since the last time he’d let it slip through his mind) she was practically buzzing with frustration, eyes shooting daggers wherever they landed. Incidentally, that was mostly on Gabriel. 

“Fine,” she eventually spat. “But you had better be serious about the towel, I don’t want to sit in your car and smell like printer paper for the next month.” 

By now Gabriel was regretting the offer. He really hadn’t thought there was any chance of her accepting it, but now he couldn’t think of a way to politely retract it. All he could do was pull car keys out of his pocket, grimace, and tell her to follow him. He didn’t have to look back to hear her rapid, angry footsteps following after him, or to feel the stares of every member of the band watching them go. It felt a little like flies crawling down his back, a sensation Gabriel would be happy to pass the rest of his life without ever feeling again. 

Band members had their own, private parking, away from the fans. Most of the band traveled via bus, but Gabriel had always been particular about using his own car. Simple, grey, fuel-efficient, Buick. He liked the freedom of having his own transportation to and from shows, and he didn’t trust anyone’s else’s driving. It always made him feel tense to not be the one in control of things, but he also wasn’t about to go driving the tour but around everywhere. So, he had his own car waiting, and he could feel Beelzebub glaring at that too. 

“The car suits you,” she said, and he got the idea that it wasn’t meant to be a compliment. He chose to take it as one anyway. 

“Thank you,” he opened the passenger door for her, earning himself another glare. 

“I can open a door myself,” she snapped, and Gabriel put his hands up to signal surrender. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that being polite was so offensive to you,” he was already retreating to the other side of the car and cringing as she slammed the door hard enough to make the car shake before opening it again herself. They both slid into the car at the same time (no mention of the towel) with matching unhappy expressions. 

“I was right,” she said, apparently deciding to ignore his comment, “your car smells like printer paper. Did you buy an air freshener specifically for that, or is it just your cologne?” 

Gabriel took a page out of her book and chose not to respond. He started the car, immediately turning up the volume to the Heavenbound cd that was already in. She leaned forward and shut it off, just as quickly. 

“Excuse me,” he turned it back on, pulling through the parking lot. She lurched forward and turned it off again. 

“I will jump out of this car while it’s still moving if you try to make me listen to that shit.” 

Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again at the look on her face. He believed she would do it, and while he didn’t care much for her, he didn’t really want to feel responsible for any serious injuries. He nodded, instead. 

“Silence it is.” Coming to a halt at the stop sign, Gabriel extracted his phone once more and pulled up the tracker before handing it off to her. “Mind directing? I like to focus on the road.” 

She scoffed, but she took the phone. “Right here,” she said. He turned right. “They’re ten minutes away. Left.” He turned left. They drove in silence for a while, until he couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“Your name can’t really be Beelzebub,” he blurted out, three minutes from their destination. Her head whipped around to glare at him all over again. “I mean, what parent would name their child Beelzebub?” He could sense that he’d made a mistake and he could also sense that his attempt to make it better had only made it worse. She was practically buzzing again, shaking with obvious anger in her seat. 

“To start, it doesn’t fucking matter what my parents chose to name me, what matters is what I’ve chosen to be called. To finish, what parent names their kids Gabriel and Aziraphale?” Her voice was bitter and angry, but Gabriel was too focused on the part where she had compared their names. 

“Gabriel and Aziraphale are biblical names,” he defended, chin raised. She scoffed again. 

“So is Beelzebub.” 

Gabriel couldn’t think of a fitting counter for that, so he fell silent once more. A minute later, they pulled up to a bar Gabriel would never willingly set foot in in any other circumstances and she was crawling out of the car before he could turn it off. He shut the engine down and stepped out after her, careful to lock it before taking his eyes off of it. 

“We’ll get an Uber back to our hotel,” she said, tossing his phone back at him before striding into the bar. Gabriel fumbled to catch it, pocket it, then followed. 


	2. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabriel and Aziraphale have a heart to heart discussion about gender identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will centered heavily around gender identity and Christian themes. If anyone finds these things triggering, please skip ahead to the next chapter.
> 
> This was not easy to write, to be honest. As someone raised in the church, I'm intending to take Gabriel on a similar journey as the one that I went through (although I hope that I never came across as belligerent or judgmental as he does). This whole story and concept has turned into something very personal, despite starting out as an absolute crack idea. I really hope that I can remain as accurate and sensitive as possible with these subjects, and please remember that the views and statements of characters in this story do not necessarily reflect those of the writer.
> 
> * * *

Aziraphale had the good sense to sit silently in the passenger seat once Gabriel had corralled him into the car. Part of that might have been due to the fact that he was irrevocably drunk, and that had Gabriel freshly annoyed with him. No, annoyed was too soft a word. He was _angry_. Clearly Aziraphale didn’t care about the reputation of Heavenbound, clearly Aziraphale didn’t care about the rules that they were supposed to follow. They had been raised in the same place, the same way, been through the same things, so why had Aziraphale turned out like this? He never outright rebelled against rules, he just skirted around them and found loopholes to insist that he wasn’t really going against the bible. Having an argument with him was like having an argument with a fish, always slithering out of the question before Gabriel could get a hold of what he was even trying to ask. 

They passed ten minutes in building silence, Aziraphale staring out the window while Gabriel worked on carefully crafting a rebuke for him. He was going to have to lay on the guilt if he wanted Aziraphale to listen, that was the only way he could ever get him to shut up long enough to let Gabriel get his point across. This was going to have to be a well-tiered speech from Gabriel. 

“You know I had to share my car with that woman to come and get you,” he began, deciding to start small and build his way up. 

“Not a woman,” Aziraphale replied casually, still staring out the window at the passing lights. Gabriel paused. That wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. 

“Fine, girl.” He gave, though he didn’t think that had been the point Aziraphale had been getting at. Aziraphale shook his head. 

“Non-binary, Crowley was referring to them with they and them pronouns.” He offered. As if Gabriel really cared, as if that was a matter even worth discussing. But it was. Aziraphale knew his weaknesses too well and knew how to draw him into arguments. 

“Do you have to start on that again?” They had danced around these things before, the whole community of it. The way Aziraphale wore his rainbows and was always dropping his hints about not being interested in _girls_. The way that he subtly referred to Michael as _they_, the way that he so pointedly talked about treating _everyone_ with the respect they deserved. Gabriel treated people with respect. He also felt it necessary to make it clear what he believed was right, it was the biblical thing to do. 

“I just thought it could save you some embarrassment if you ever see them in the future. I know you would hate to misgender someone.” There was an edge to Aziraphale’s tone, proving that he knew exactly what he was doing. Gabriel tightened his grip on the steering wheel. 

“I don’t intend on ever seeing _her_ in the future. In addition, she is clearly biologically female and God made two genders, no more. He doesn’t make mistakes, either. People are born to be who they are.” He didn’t see why people had to go and complicate that. If everyone would just listen, the world would be a simpler place. 

“Would you tell that to someone born with a genetic disease?” Aziraphale asked mildly. 

“That’s completely different.” 

“How?” 

Gabriel could feel his face heating up. He hated how calm Aziraphale was about it all, even after drinking the bar out of wine. He was getting the idea that this was an argument Aziraphale had been preparing for much longer than the ten minutes that they had been in the car. In his mind, the matter felt so simple, but in this conversation, Gabriel found himself feeling woefully unprepared. There was the temptation to fall back on his normal shout at Aziraphale that ‘_this is the way it is, and have a little faith that God knows what he’s doing_’, but he couldn’t bring himself to it tonight. His mind played back to Beelzebub driving a finger into his chest. 

“God created gender. He didn’t create genetic diseases,” Gabriel’s chest puffed up at the reply, feeling he’d won some portion of the argument, at least. Oddly enough, he didn’t think this was one of those conversations he’d be able to sweep under the rug and ignore now that it had been started. 

“Hmm,” Aziraphale was definitely not as convinced as Gabriel had hoped. 

“God created Adam and Eve. He made them male and female, he didn’t tell them they were whatever they felt like, and he didn’t make any other genders. We should follow the biblical example.” He was on a roll now, feeling more confident in words, sure that Aziraphale would not be able to counter him sober, much less drunk. 

“Have fun dying alone,” Aziraphale said, instead of agreeing with Gabriel’s point. Gabriel knew it was bait. He knew he ought to keep silent until they reached the hotel and send Aziraphale to bed. But damn him, Aziraphale knew exactly how to bait him. 

“I’m sorry?” He asked, teeth clenched. 

“You’re not Adam and Eve is dead, so I guess you can never fit God’s original idea for a relationship,” he replied, still mild and unflinching in contrast to Gabriel’s ever-growing frustration. 

“You know it’s not the same thing, Aziraphale.” Exasperation was edging into his tone now - he wanted to shake some sense into Aziraphale. 

“So what?” Aziraphale snapped back, surprising Gabriel with the sudden venom in his tone. “They’re not a Christian, they’re not a part of our band, let’s say I agree that humans all belong to the gender they were born with. Does it hurt all that much to respect someone else? It’s not like more hate and anger is going to make them change their minds on how wonderful being a Christian is. Refusing to listen and let them be who they want to be isn’t going to make you more holy, and it’s not going to make anyone see the error of their ways and change. It’s just going to piss everyone off, so for once in your life, get off your damn high horse and let the people around you live their lives without you micromanaging everything they do, right down the pronouns that they want to use.” Aziraphale finished with a huff, more passion in his voice than Gabriel remembered hearing in a very long time. 

He tried to open his mouth and form a response, but his throat stuck. No words came to mind. He shut his mouth again. Inside, he was a confusing swirl of emotions he couldn’t even put name to, fresh thoughts waking up that he couldn’t say he liked. His mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“You’re drunk.” He finally said. 

Aziraphale turned, resting his head against the window and staring out it again. “Yeah.” 


	3. Overlook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabriel drinks too much and Beelzebub steals his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am so sorry how long it's taken me to update. I've been dealing with a LOT of shit in my personal life, and honestly things have been pretty rough. When I get stressed, my motivation to write is the first thing to go, so this fic has suffered a lot. But I have no plans of abandoning it before it's finished! Please just bear with me and I promise there's more to come for this and for Umbrella.

Beelzebub was watching Crowley and Aziraphale sneak off with all the subterfuge of a pair of fish. They looked behind them as they went, completely missing Beelzebub in a particularly shadowy area, smoking a cigarette. Off for another drink, they imagined. It would be easy to pitch a fit about and drag Crowley back just like they had the last time, but he’d been moping about so badly ever since, they didn’t quite have the heart for it. It wasn’t a bender, at least. He might come back moon-brained and useless for a bit, but it was better than some other options. The worst part about it all was that the object of his affections was from Heavenbound and thus associated with one certain _ Gabriel _ that they wanted to shove off a cliff. 

They could deal with that, so long as it didn’t mean extended contact with the entirety of the other band. They’d gone so far as to send a snarky thank-you note to the leader of said band, and the idiot had taken them seriously. He’d sent a note back, not a hint of facetiousness in it, saying how he was pleasantly surprised that they could be so decent. _ Decent _. Whatever universe he had come from, they wished it had kept him. They had passed most of the night before the concert glaring at him, an action he had apparently been more than happy to return. Beelzebub was going to murder Crowley. He took care of their booking and they couldn’t imagine him having done this on accident. 

He was about as subtle as a wounded moose. Given that, it seemed especially cruel, even for them, to get in his way anymore; he was his own biggest enemy. All Beelzebub had to do was sit back and watch the flames lick closer. That was all they could do. They didn’t get involved in personal lives, not anymore. 

With a sigh, they flicked the stub of the cigarette to the ground and watched the embers fade against the pavement. They did not pick it up to throw it away. They kicked off the wall to leave, just as headlights swung across them, forcing them to squint and turn their head away as they waited for the car to pass. Instead, the thing rolled up beside them and with a significant amount of dread, Beelzebub recognized the steely grey paint. They pressed their lips into a thin line and glared at the window that was slowly rolling down. 

“You shouldn’t be loitering out here,” Gabriel was leaning across the console to look out the passenger window that Beelzebub had now approached. 

“Don’t worry, this is my side job,” they told him dryly. He didn’t seem to get it. Instead he spared a moment to glance around at the empty parking lot and alley. 

“Where’s your band?” 

Beelzebub wished they had waited to drop their cigarette. It would have been the perfect moment to flick to the ground and watch Gabriel’s disdain. They settled for dropping their forearms onto the open window of the car and leaning down. 

“None of them are real people. I just use black magic to project them whenever I have a show. I made a deal with the devil, sold my soul, now I can do whatever I want.” They bared a grin at him and there, that got the disdainful look they had been trying for. His purplish-grey eyes dropped to their arms on the window and then back to their face. He asked, 

“Do you need a ride?” 

Beelzebub’s confidence skittered. They hadn’t expected that from him. “What?” They asked, eloquently. He pushed a button and there was the familiar sound of car doors unlocking. 

“A ride,” he repeated, “this isn’t a good city to be walking around after dark in.” 

Beelzebub blinked. Something in the back of their mind screamed _ TRAP _, while their mouth replied, “I can take care of myself.” The band was still inside, after all. They still had a bus to take back to the hotel. They wouldn’t tell Gabriel that, because that was just more information than he needed. He’d made his feelings very clear about their band and them as a person, and they couldn’t find it in them to believe he was being nice. It was that damn note. They had done this to themselves. 

“Be that as it may,” Gabriel continued. He looked more pained than usual. “Just-” he couldn’t seem to find any kind of convincing words, because he just waved a hand and then, in a frustrated motion, leaned across the passenger seat to grab the latch and throw the passenger door open. It nearly slammed across Beelzebub’s knees. They stared at the open door with a sort of fascinated horror. What exactly was happening? Was Gabriel trying to, Satan forbid, _ protect _ them? Maybe that did make sense, if they thought about it. Everything about him screamed of white knight syndrome. 

They should walk away. It was only a creeping curiosity which held them there, had them stepping around the door as if they were going to get in the car. No, they _ were _ getting in the car, and they didn’t remember telling their legs to do that. Their door swung shut after them, and when they looked over, Gabriel was very firmly not looking at them and his face was several shades pinker than normal. That was information they were going to hold onto. They weren’t sure what they would do with it, but they would use it. 

“Are you gonna drive or just sit there?” They asked when the car didn’t start moving. It started to move again and they had fixed their eyes down on their lap to pull out their phone and text Dagon that they had already left for the night. 

“Where are you staying?” Gabriel finally spoke as he was pulling out of the parking lot and Beelzebub rattled off the hotel, finding that they didn’t want to look up just yet. They were feeling something they did not want to identify as nerves and they were doing their best not to allow pictures of the past to cycle through their mind. The car moved on and Beelzebub busied their hands with picking at the edges of their phone case and inwardly cussing themself out for ever getting into the car. By the time they managed to look up and out the window, they saw the light of a saving grace and snapped, 

“Stop here.” 

“What?” Gabriel sounded as surprised as they felt, but he was already slowing and pulling into the parking lot. 

“I need to grab something,” was all they answered with, opening the door before the car even came to a complete stop and jumping out. They veered away from the entrance of the gas station he had parked in front of and jogged over to the attached liquor store instead. Five minutes later they were walking back out with a brown bag that contained a hefty bottle of rum of and sliding back into Gabriel’s car. The disapproving look he gave them set them more at ease than they had been before. 

“What’s wrong Gaybro? Drinking make you uncomfortable?” They were already tugging the bottle out of the paper bag and tossing the trash onto the floor, just to enjoy how pained it made him look. “I drink. Sometimes. And my name is Gabriel.” 

They arched an eyebrow. Defensive. They could work with that. “Let me guess, you’ve sipped champagne at a wedding and felt guilty about it after?” They pouted in his direction and the lines between his eyebrows grew deeper. 

“No. I’ve had more than champagne.” He was turning shades of pink again and Beelzebub felt they had control again. They held the bottle out enticingly. 

“Prove it.” 

He wouldn’t. But he grabbed the bottle, uncapped it, and took a swig off the top. Beelzebub felt more triumphant than they should have at that, refusing the bottle when he coughed and offered it back to them. 

“You can’t drink and drive sweetheart, looks like you have to hand the keys over now.” They held a hand out, a sense of control leaving them altogether pleased with themselves. A single sip of rum wasn’t anything that could even come close to impairing motor abilities, but the obvious guilt of it was already warring on Gabriel’s face. 

“It was just one drink,” he said weakly, casting a fearful glance at the car. He didn’t want them driving it, and they didn’t blame him. They still held their hand out, flicking fingers expectantly. 

“Not very Christian of you to rationalize these things.” They pointed out, knowing it would hit the mark. He looked utterly crestfallen and it was almost too easy. 

“Do you even have a license?” He tried. 

Beelzebub propped an elbow on the console and looked up at him. “What, you think I’m too gay to drive straight?” 

That did the trick. Gabriel’s face was fully red now and he didn’t even respond to them, just reached for the door and climbed out. They followed in suit and he went around the back of the car while they went around the front. Settling back into the car in opposite seats felt stranger than Beelzebub cared to admit; it had been longer than they also cared to admit since they had driven anything. There was always somebody else to do the driving. Still, they felt an undeniable sense of accomplishment as they laid their hands on the steering wheel. 

“You’re driving straight to the hotel.” Gabriel said with the kind of finality that they were sure worked on any of his band members. 

“You should have another drink,” Beelzebub told him for an answer. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw him comply. They pulled out of the parking lot and turned in the opposite direction of the hotel. Gabriel made a small sound of protest then took another drink. They really weren’t sure where they were going, but they hit the gas and went anyway. Not back to the hotel, not once they had been granted this control. For all the practicality and simplicity of the grey car, it had some get up and go and lurched forward as soon as they pressed the gas pedal, drawing muttered word from Gabriel that might have been something close to blasphemy. 

“How do you feel about Wendy’s?” They asked, not bothering to glance in his direction. 

“I only eat organic,” Gabriel answered miserably, and they took that as a yes. 

A solid fifteen minutes later, Beelzebub had a frosty and Gabriel was reluctantly holding his own and asking if they were returning to the hotel yet. Beelzebub was enjoying driving. Well. Maybe it wasn’t about the driving, maybe it was about the fact that they had control over Gabriel now, and the bottle of rum was still slowly emptying. Gabriel looked miserable with the situation, but his protests were getting weaker (he’d even chuckled a few times). The most alarming thing about it all was how much they had enjoyed being the one to draw the chuckle out of him. He was actually nice looking, when he wasn’t so annoyed that he looked constipated. 

They drove at random, keeping an eye on the gas gauge and letting Gabriel continue to drink until it loosened him up enough to talk. And he did talk. Emphatically, randomly. They wondered how much he held back on the daily to be full of so many things to say. He jumped subjects, moving from the bible to music to the right way to make a tea and how frustrating it was when someone did it wrong. Beelzebub contented themselves with listening by telling themselves it was to find dirt on him. There was any number of things he went off on (at least a twenty minute rant about the annoying things that Aziraphale did) that they could hold against him if they ever needed the blackmail. 

Eventually, the gas gauge started to dip and Beelzebub found an outlook just outside the city to pull the car to a stop. 

“Come on,” without pausing to wait for him, they climbed out of the car and circled the front to climb up on the hood. He followed, much slower and less sure, staring for a long moment at the shiny gray hood of his car like he wanted to say something about respecting his property. Apparently that was too much to work through, because instead he slid up beside them, bottle since abandoned in the car. “Why are we here?” He worked out, a little slower than he might have sober. Beelzebub shrugged, leaning back against the windshield. It was just cloudy enough to make it difficult to make out any stars, not that it would have been easy to on a clear night, so close to the city. They couldn’t say what had lead them out to this spot, except that maybe they were tired of the city rush. It was nice enough to see that everyone around was as miserable as them and all, but sometimes the quiet was nice too. 

“S’quiet.” They finally answered. They waited for him to push. That, or change the subject and go on prattling on about some other subject. Instead, he followed in suit and leaned back against the windshield, letting silence fall. It took a while for the silence to really soak in. Everything in their world was so full of noise, their _ business _ was noise. Gabriel sighed. Beelzebub echoed it. The silence settled in and made a home between the two of them, comfortable and relaxed. It stretched out, long and luxurious and without pressure to fill it with any words. To say the least, it was a strange thing. Not bad, but strange. The kind of thing that shouldn’t have been found with an adversarial band leader, and once that comfort needled it’s way into discomfort, Beelzebub sat up. 

“Come on, time to go.” 

“Huh?” Gabriel responded with all the grace of a wounded buffalo. He looked like he’d been half-asleep before they spoke, and given how much he’d drank, he might have been. They were already sliding off the edge of the hood, circling around the car. 

“Time to go, hotel, I’ve got shit to do in the morning.” They didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. He already looked a combination of confused, concerned, and a little nauseous, as he slid off the hood as well and steadied himself on the roof of the car to work his way to the passenger door. 

“Did I miss something?” He asked, once they were both getting into the car and he was fumbling with his seatbelt (while Beelzebub pointedly left theirs off). 

“I got bored.” Regardless of the truth, it was the first thing to come to their mind and it was what came tumbling out. It was cutting enough, which was what they wanted at the moment. It more or less had the intended effect as Gabriel’s eyebrows drew further together and he actually began to look self-contemplative. Because apparently he was capable of that. They didn’t doubt that every part of him wanted to apologize, while at the same time every part of him wanted to defend himself and probably a good portion of him wanted to throw up. 

They took the opportunity to gun the car towards the hotel. The silence in the car on the way was not like the earlier silence. It was full of tense looks from Gabriel and the strain of words that wanted to be said, the cracked fragments of comfort that Beelzebub had willfully destroyed. They weren’t fooling themselves into a friendship in this, and while they might have started with a twisted sort of joy at making him uncomfortable while gathering future ammunition, that was not what the past hour had been and they knew it. Which meant it was time to end the night. By the time they pulled into the hotel, the clock on the dash read in the accusing early morning hours and Gabriel had apparently sobered enough to feel bashful. 

He mostly muttered and mumbled when they tossed keys at him, refusing to meet their eyes. It didn’t give them as much enjoyment as it might have earlier that night in the concert hall, so they left him in the parking lot alone. 


	4. Bad Behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabriel apologizes for being an idiot.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior last night.” The words didn’t come easy, especially with the splitting headache he was dealing with, coupled with an intense grogginess. Usually, Gabriel’s mornings began at 6:30 am, with a long jog followed by a cup of tea. This morning had begun at 8:30 am with multiple cups of coffee and some motrin. He didn’t think Aziraphale noticed, or if he did, he hadn’t said anything. 

Beelzebub, on the other hand, definitely did notice and was smug about it. “Looks like someone had a rough night.” They let the door to their hotel swing open. Gabriel couldn’t help but to look them up and down, feeling that she was the one who looked like she’d been drinking the night before. He had at least gotten himself looking decent before he’d left his rom. She was still in a slouchy tee shirt and oversized pair of sweatpants, hair matted to one side of their face. Her face. Fuck it, he didn’t know anymore. 

They were glaring up at him. “Mine is a choice, fucko. Not all of us feel the need to get up asscrack early to make ourselves look pretty.” She left the door hanging open and wandered back into the hotel room. 

“Your vocabulary is ever-evocative.” Gabriel responded dryly, stepping into the room after them, against his better judgement. He was still full of mixed feelings from the night before and wasn’t sure what he wanted to say about it. He just knew that he wanted to say something. He felt he had misjudged Beelzebub, he only hadn’t decided how yet. They were confusing and not at all what he thought she was. The door, he left open behind them. He was not about to have any stories starting about the two of them being alone together. Appearances were always important, and it was his job to keep the shiny appearance of Heavenbound. 

“Did you want something?” Beelzebub asked, throwing themselves onto the bed in the center of the room. They reached for the tv remote before he could answer and flipped it on, a commercial for cigarettes nearly drowning him out. 

“As I said, I wanted to apologize for last night.” He raised his voice to be heard over the tv, but they still didn’t look his way. 

“Well, you’ve done that. Anything else?” Eyes still glued to the tv, she seemed to be giving him as little attention as possible. Gabriel frowned. It really was all that he had been prepared to come and do, but he didn’t want to leave yet. He felt out of control, and he was never out of control of a situation. He didn’t like it. 

“You owe me money.” 

“What?” 

They finally looked up at him. “For the rum. You drank most of that bottle and I paid for it. So you owe me money for it.” They seemed to have half their attention on the tv and half on him now, which he supposed was at least a little better. With a sigh, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and filed through some bills before pulling out an amount he was sure was overly generous for the quality of the drink. He folded them over and held the bills out to her. They made a show of sighing, shifting themselves and snatching it away from his hand. After a quick glance at the money he’d handed over (and clearly counting the amount) she scoffed and offered the money back out to him. 

“Put it over there on the counter,” they said, flicking the wad of cash at him. Gabriel gave up on the idea of glaring as it was clearly to no effect and merely did as they said. He moved the few feet over to set the money down on the short counter near what had to be the bathroom door and couldn’t help himself from looking over the contents of said counter. In particular, his eyes were drawn to a pair of tickets strewn to the side for a symphony showing. He leaned further over to try to read them better, interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. 

“It was a pretty simple instruction.” Beelzebub snapped, and he spun back around, finding that he finally had their full attention. 

“Who are you going to the symphony with?” He asked, deciding that it was the best policy to not try to beat around the bush with them. They arched an eyebrow. 

“Jealous?” She asked, all challenge and simmering coals. 

“It’s a good show,” he replied, honest and bland. They stared him for another long and disquieting moment before shifting their attention to the tv once more. It had turned to some kind of horror movie now that the commercials were finished, something with lots of blood and gore in it. 

“Dagon was supposed to, fucking chump got a date though. Not that it’s any of your business.” They seemed quite finished him then, but Gabriel still didn’t leave. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next. 

“Do you need someone to go with you?” 

It was just a question. A mutually beneficial proposal, it didn’t mean that he had to like her, or that they had to like him. He simply enjoyed a good symphony show, and she had an available ticket, far be it from him to turn down an evening out doing something enjoyable. At least that wouldn’t involve any drinking. Their attention, though he’d thought he lost it for good, was once again shifted to him, this time with more intensity than he thought possible. 

“You want me to take you to the show?” They asked, both eyebrows nearly in their hairline. It took every ounce of effort to keep his face from going hot at the question. They had phrased it like that on purpose, he knew, to try to make him uncomfortable. He couldn’t back down now, make them think they had the ability to fluster him. He picked at an imaginary bit of fuzz on his shirt. 

“If you’d like. You seem uncomfortable at the thought of going alone, and I enjoy the symphony. It’s tomorrow night, right? I have nothing else planned.” He was suddenly very aware of the way that he was standing, the placement of his hands, even the rate of his own breathing. It wasn’t discomfort, no. There was nothing anticipatory about this, it wasn’t like he couldn’t go to a show on his own if he wanted to. If she said no, that would be that and he would be fine, obviously. They were still staring at him, eyebrows tucked together and mouth pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t tell if it was surprise or annoyance, but he could never quite figure out their facial expressions. 

“Okay.” They finally said. Gabriel nodded. The discomfort in the room had gone up several notches, despite the surprisingly civil interaction they’d had so far. 

“I’ll swing by your room at eight, we can take my car.” He suggested, with nothing else to say. They opened their mouth and then shut it again. They nodded. 

“Okay,” again. 

He nodded, again. “Well, goodbye.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

With some stumbling over his own feet, Gabriel backed out of the room managed to pull the door shut after him, heart pounding for reasons he couldn’t explain and wasn’t sure that he wanted to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! Thank you guys for trudging through this fic! Yes, in Umbrella, I referenced Beelzebub with they/them pronouns. They do identify as nonbinary in this fic! However, Gabriel also identifies as a conservative Christian dickwad who doesn't think about these things, thus thinks of them with she/her pronouns. I PROMISE, if you stick with the fic, he's going to grow up and learn how to respect pronouns and gender expression. It may take a while and involve some pain and/or sensitive subjects, but I'm really hoping to make something realistic and heartfelt!


End file.
